Fledgling
by m00shrum
Summary: Touma had been treated as an adult for all his life. But in reality, he was only a child with big dreams, a boy who lost his path, a man who never flew. ShinxTouma.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **I'm ditching my other story, Emotional Intelligence, for this one, because the other one just didn't have enough Touma/Shin interaction to satisfy my fangirlism. Again, this is kind of like a longer version of my first Touma/Shin fic, A Little Soft. I've always wanted to turn that idea into something bigger.

**Warning:** Contains a very crazy, but not quite out-of-character Touma (imho). And _real_ slash, not the usual stuff I write that can be taken for innocent friend-love. Gasp.

- - -

(Time: 8 months after Message)

FLEDGLING: Part I

Touma sat outside the principal's office, hair and clothes dripping all over the seat. Had he not been in his current situation, he might have felt just a little sorry for the terrified younger student that sat next to him, his legs dangling a few inches above the floor. Touma suspected he was just another victim of a low setup, accused wrongly of a small crime such as cheating on a test. Suddenly, they both had something in common.

The office door opened and a girl fled the room, sobbing something about how her parents would kill her. Touma recognized her as a student in his own grade, but he couldn't remember her name.

"Hashiba Touma," the principal called from inside. "If you're still there, you may come in now."

Touma hated the man. He hated the pretentious way the principal carried himself: the sterile clothes, the neatly parted hair, those reflective glasses that he believed to be oh-so-intimidating. To Touma, he was just another tool to keep a false order over the school, a school where all the gifted and talented students would grow up to be just like him, another well-packaged product. With "100 percent man-made" tattooed to the soles of their feet. What had once been Touma's dream had now become a nightmare.

He walked into the room, the intense light making it appear larger than it actually was. His shoes squeaked from the rainwater, leaving wet brown patches over the carpet. Good, he thought, keep them as souvenirs. Then, without waiting to be invited, Touma sat down across from the principal, feeling the blissful sensation of muddy water seeping through the dry seat of the chair.

The principal sighed. "Oh, Hashiba, I really don't know what to do with you." He took off his glasses and began to clean them, shaking his head regretfully. "I went to school with your father, you know. Brilliant man. Just brilliant."

Touma resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"And I know you're brilliant too," the principal continued. "You excel in every subject, grasp advanced concepts in a matter of seconds, and yet you have this atrocious record of delinquency. A teacher told me that you 'beat up several kids' of your own age this afternoon. One of them was sent to the hospital. I don't know how or why you did it, but you understand the consequences."

"Actually," said Touma, "I don't. Those kids stole my books, Yamamoto-sensei. How am I supposed to learn without my books? Books are _expensive_."

Yamamoto took off his glasses again and rubbed his temples with the other hand. "We can take care of that, Hashiba. There is no need to hit anyone over it. I will supply them for you without charge."

"What about the others then?" Touma asked. He stood abruptly as his voice rose, nearly knocking over the flower vase on the table. "I'm not the only one this happens to. What about that little kid sitting outside right now? What if he had his books stolen? Would you give him more books for free? Of course, you say! Of course you would! You know what? I should just drop out right now!"

"Touma, please."

"Do _not_ call me that!" He was on a roll now, and he didn't want to stop. "You have no right to call me that! I don't care if you and my old man were chums in high school!"

"And I don't care that you're his child. Your intelligence is no excuse for your lack of manners. Let me remind you that this is your last year before university. Now sit down before I expel you from this school."

Touma's knuckles had gone white from grasping the edge of the table so hard. He made no move to sit. "Do it," he challenged. His voice shook, but he hoped Yamamoto was too distracted to have noticed. "I don't care."

"I'm calling your father," said Yamamoto, after a moment. "And if you don't sit down right now, I will have you speak with him yourself."

"He won't pick up," said Touma, but he lowered himself into his seat obediently. "He never does."

Yamamoto ignored the comment, setting the phone on his desk to speaker mode and dialing the guardian number on Touma's student files. Automatically, Touma began to count the ring tones. He had counted them so many times in the past that it made him sick. Pick up, he chanted with each ring. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

On the tenth ring, Yamamoto got impatient and hung up. It made Touma hate him more. No one had any idea how many rings he counted for each call, knowing with a strange sort of dread that it would be useless, but still hoping, perhaps, his father had installed a new answering machine. Or hired a housekeeper curious enough to answer a phone that rang too many times to be unimportant.

"Where do you live now?" asked Yamamoto. To Touma's satisfaction, his voice had lost some of its professional composure.

"In a friend's apartment," said Touma. "He's a college student."

"At which university?"

Touma frowned. "A good one," he said with a shrug. "Let's just say he'd never yell at his high school principal, or anyone else."

"Oh, good," said Yamamoto, smiling cheerlessly. "Then maybe you should talk to this friend of yours more often. Frankly, I don't know why he's letting you live with him. I'm writing a letter to your father about you. You're dismissed for now."

Touma didn't hesitate to leave the room. On his way out, he noticed the little boy again, looking as anxious as ever. "Good luck," he said loudly to the boy, hoping Yamamoto would hear him. "You'll need it. He's in a sour mood, as always. And you might want to stay standing for as long as possible. The chair is kind of wet." Then, he jogged down the hall and threw the school doors open so that the entire doorframe shook, before stepping out into the rain.

Not a soul was left in the school yard. Touma decided he liked it better that way as he strode across the yard, slinging his now empty bag over his shoulder casually. Just as he stepped outside onto the block, he noticed a large puddle near the sidewalk. On a closer inspection, he realized that several textbooks lying on the ground had blocked the path to the drain, the same books those boys had taken from him earlier.

He bent over to pick up the books, going through each of them to check how much of the writing had been washed away. The rain blurred his vision and he reached up to wipe his face, only to find his sleeve just as wet. He finally gave up, dumped all the books into his bag, and headed home.

Shin. His college friends were probably over, as usual, which meant plenty of leftover homemade snacks. Touma's day brightened a little at the idea of it.

Sure enough, when Touma arrived, the living room table was covered in all sort of delicious sweets. But there was no one in the room except the prettiest girl Touma had ever seen, curled up comfortably on the couch with a textbook and a half-bitten sesame rice ball. Touma watched as she popped the remainder of the dessert into her mouth, chewing it indulgingly as if the ridiculous ball of rice were Shin himself. Shin was such a lucky bastard when it came to girls.

"Oh, hi!" she greeted as Touma walked up to her. "You must be Touma."

He stared at her for a moment, in utter disbelief that this girl was actually in _his_ bed, with _his_ blanket around her, and eating _his_ food, after all that had happened to him today. "I won't ask," he said, raising both hands in honest surrender.

The girl gave a charming laugh. "I'm not who you think I am," she said. "Shin was just helping me catch up on some school material. He warned me that you might tease."

"And let _me_ warn you that he probably didn't invite you over just to review some school material," said Touma, dropping his soggy book bag on the floor. "I mean, wow. Shin has to be smarter than that."

She pretended she didn't hear him, and went back to reading her textbook.

"Girls," muttered Touma aloud as Shin came in, holding yet another plate of desserts. "No sense of humor whatsoever."

"That's not true," said Shin, allowing Touma to snatch a few mini-cakes before setting the plate on the table with the others. "Hiroko has a wonderful sense of humor. Hiroko, meet Touma. I know he doesn't look like a genius, but if someone ever comes up with a time-traveling machine, it's probably him."

"I'll be looking forward to it," said Hiroko.

Touma stuffed the cakes in his mouth all at once, chewing noisily. "It won't happen," he said with his mouth full. "I have no intention of becoming an inventor. Once I get out of high school, I'm buying my own tiny farm and settling down in the countryside where I can plant my own food. Maybe build myself a robot that will do all the tedious work for me. It'll be like a one-man economy."

"Hm." Hiroko looked up thoughtfully. "So that's where all the geniuses go. It all makes sense. Once your intelligence reaches a certain point, you begin to isolate yourself from the rest of society because of your understanding of the world as a self-regulating system. In other words, you leave society in order to play the role of spectator."

Touma blinked. "See?" he said. "No sense of humor. I'm just another one of those lazy video game nerds who happens to be good at math. Girls also think too much about the world and society and such. And I know what you're going to say Shin, but it's useless. You're just a woman in a man's body."

Shin already had his mouth open before Touma made his remark, probably to scold Touma in his motherly way about not putting on some dry clothes, but he decided to say nothing. Instead, he punched Touma in the shoulder, a little too hard for a woman, even one with the body of a man, and took a seat next to Hiroko on the couch. She snuggled up beside him and offered him half of Touma's blanket, which he accepted gratefully.

"Okay, then," said Touma, picking up his bag. "I'll just leave you two lesbian lovebirds alone now and retire to my nonexistent room."

And he did.

- - -

He didn't know how it happened, but he recently discovered he was obsessed with Mouri Shin. For days, he debated whether this discovery made him homosexual, bisexual, or even heterosexual. He wasn't even sure if it qualified as sexual attraction. Finally, he decided, using process of elimination, that he must be Shin-philous. In other words, none of the above.

Shin was shaving for the second time ever that evening. Touma watched, completely mesmerized, as he swept the razor in a slow smooth motion down his left cheek with his right hand and fixed the right side of his hair with his left hand, humming softly to himself, as if he'd been doing it for years.

Unconsciously, Touma ran his fingers across the even skin of his own cheek. His own transition into adulthood had been a shaky one—in fact, he still wasn't sure when it would be over. A part of him hoped he would remain in the phase long enough for his left arm to grow to the length of his right one (it was about an inch or so off at the moment), and another part of him wanted to scream "Stop!" because another inch of leg would send him crashing his head into all the doorframes made in Japan. If he could, he'd compromise half an inch for half an inch.

Shin was a totally different case. Touma had no idea when Shin's voice began to grow deeper or when his friend grew those extra five inches. He only knew that it happened sometime over the past four years they had known each other.

"So what's going on with you?" Shin suddenly asked, his foam-bearded reflection in the mirror appearing mildly concerned. "What are all those wet books doing on my heater?"

Touma sighed. "Some kids stole my books today," he explained. "And when I went all Samurai-Trooper-style on them, one of them got sent to the hospital and I was sent to the principal, which is a totally unfair trade on my part. Then I found the books afterwards. No one in school seems to appreciate the fact that I helped to save the world."

"You're a nerd, Touma," said Shin as-a-matter-of-factly, rinsing off the shaving cream. "A nerd is made fun of in school, regardless of how many times he saved the world. It's how the world works."

"Why, thank you, Sir Newton. That really helps a lot."

Shin rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "Well, it should," he said. "I like you in all your nerdy glory. Someday, you'll do more than just save the world. You're going to _change_ it, by contributing something crucial to the growing world of science. There will be Hashiba's Law in every physics textbook, Hashiba's Vaccine in every living person, and a new element called Hashibanium on the Periodic Table."

"You're like my father," said Touma.

"Yes, and you're Luke Skywalker. 'Join me and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.' Your nerdiness is really starting to rub off on me."

Touma grinned. "I love you," he said. He loved being able to say it too.

"Speaking of nerds," said Shin, "I came across a poster for a science competition today. For high school and college students. Prizes are various scholarships, and recognition, of course. I'm not too interested, since they're looking for experiments in addition to research, but I thought you might be. You'd have to hurry though. The deadlines are soon."

"I'm not sure." Touma shrugged. "I haven't been into the whole science scene lately."

"I noticed. Girlfriend?"

"It's more complicated than that," said Touma. "Girls are nice accessories, but I don't need them."

Shin crossed his arms. "Oh, yeah? Then what plagues you, Heavenly One?"

"You, of all people, should understand… after going through examination hell and coming out very much alive."

"Oh, don't ever mention that again," said Shin, feigning a shudder. "I found myself dreaming that I had suddenly become you every night, during those three precious hours of sleep. I wasn't sure if it was a fantasy or nightmare. But you… what are you worried about? You should have no trouble passing those exams with top grades."

Touma took a deep breath and released it in the form of a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just worrying because I have nothing to worry about." He had almost let it slip—old memories, not quite locked away properly, and of course, _that_. Fortunately, if Shin had noticed, he didn't reveal it. There was only one real thing they had in common, and it was this silence, this tendency to never talk about their own problems with others, even those closest to them. "So about the science competition… where can I find out more?"

- - -

It turned out that he had to go to the teen section of the library to find out more information. He headed there the next day, leaving before his last class began so the boys who had tried to destroy his books yesterday (and the week before that, and the week before that) wouldn't have the chance of catching him before he left the school grounds. The young librarian, who had never seen him before, spent nearly ten minutes droning on and on about the rules and regulations, even though it was all written very clearly on the multiple handouts she had given him. Touma thanked her until she stopped talking and zoomed away to hide in his favorite little corner of the historical reference section.

As he began to scan the list of suggested topics, Yukawa-san, the older librarian came by, carrying an armful of books and nearly dropping them as she spotted Touma sitting on the carpet. Touma quickly stood to help.

"Oh, thank you!" She didn't object when Touma took away her entire book load. "You surprised me. I haven't seen you here in so long."

"I've been busy," said Touma, filing the books onto the shelves for her. He thought of Shin. "University exams are coming up and I just moved in a few months ago with a friend, so I'm still getting adjusted to this new hectic life."

"That does sound rather hectic," said Yukawa. "So why are you here today? Do you need a rest from all the work? I've saved a few anthologies for you that I thought you might be interested in. I'm not supposed to do that, you know."

Touma blushed. "Actually, I came to find information on a science competition," he said. "I'm still trying to decide if I should enter or not. These topics—" He held up the sheet in his hand. "—seem kind of boring. Any history competitions?"

"Before you start running all over the place, let me see that first," said Yukawa, taking the sheet and putting on her reading glasses. She smiled as she began to read the topics. "Personally, I think all of these would be rather interesting if you researched into them. Say you decide to pick the 'rockets' topic. Any boy your age might be able to explain and calculate the basic physics of rocket motion, but you have so much more. In addition to physics, you have a strong background in chemistry, calculus, history… nothing you decide to do will be boring."

"So what do you think I should do? Rockets?"

Yukawa handed the paper back to him. "You missed the point, Touma. What I'm trying to say is: you can do anything you set your mind to."

"I've been told that a lot lately," said Touma. He thought of Shin.

"I'm telling you this because I care about you," said Yukawa. "I still remember the first time you came to this exact place in the library. You were fourteen then, and you wanted to know where you could find an original text of _The Art of War_. Trust me, I don't remember the first time I meet every single boy who asks me for a book. Don't dismiss what people say as empty praises. It's because we want to see you succeed."

Touma smiled sheepishly in response. But something about those words frightened him, as if all these people who cared were waiting and waiting and waiting for him to perform that miracle. It was like saving the world all over again, this time by himself. But what if he did it? Then what? He thought of Shin.

What would happen if his name appeared in every physics textbook?

What would happen if he developed a universal vaccine?

What would happen if an element were named after him on the Periodic Table?

What would happen?

Nothing.

- - -

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Or at least I hope I managed to get inside Touma's brilliant teenage mind. I'm really trying a different approach with this story than with the others I've written. All feedback is very much appreciated. :)


	2. Chapter 2

FLEDGLING: Part II

Shin's friends were over as usual, for English-studying purposes, or so Shin claimed. "I hope you don't mind," he had said to Touma. "I know you also have work to do, so if we get too loud, feel free to use my room."

And that was exactly what Touma ended up doing. He could still hear the ongoing chatter in the living room, even with the door closed—an unpleasant mix of Japanese and bad English. Not that his own accent was much better. Shin, on the other hand, well… As much as Shin needed to expand his English vocabulary, he managed to imitate a British accent to near perfection. Touma concluded that Shin watched way too many English movies in his spare time. Not that it was a bad thing.

He pulled Shin's covers tighter around his shoulders and stared down at the plain sheet of paper in his hands. The calculations had been simple—he knew exactly how large the wingspan should be proportional to the plane's length and where to place the ailerons in order for the plane to perform the stunt he had in mind, but coming up with a foldable paper airplane design was more challenging than he expected. If only I had a strong background in something like origami, he thought. Yukawa-san would've liked to hear that he was trying something new for the science project.

But instead of trying to come up with plane designs, he found himself thinking of Yamamoto, and whether or not the man had written that letter to his father yet, or if he even planned to write it at all. Touma hoped he did. It's been nearly a week. He pictured how his father might react. Maybe he'd call the principal immediately, in utter disbelief that his son would ever hit another student. Maybe he'd come to visit to see if his son was all right. Or maybe he'd just throw the letter aside with all the other mail. It made Touma sad to think that he didn't really know what his father would do.

Shin was now going on and on in English about Japanese tea, probably just following an exercise from his textbook. Somewhere in the middle of it all, he had lost his point, and ended up in a euphonic clash of confused verbs, nouns, and tea ceremony terms. Touma smiled and closed his eyes, allowing the sound of Shin's voice to wash any stray thoughts away. He kind of wished Shin would speak to him in English sometimes. They'd have all sorts of entertaining conversations about tea and flowers and the weather outside.

Speaking of the weather, it was raining again. The rain seemed to have fallen in love with Tokyo lately—the crowds, the colors, the commotion. Touma hoped it would stay that way. In the living room, Shin's friends were saying their goodbyes. Books slamming, jackets and bags zipping, the casual claps of two hands belonging to more than one person. When the talking and laughter finally died, Touma pushed the door open to see what Shin was doing.

Hiroko was still there, helping Shin carry the trays of leftover food into the kitchen, humming an old song, her pretty knee-length skirt swaying back and forth to the movement of her pretty butt. Stunning. Touma watched her through the open crack of the door, knowing he probably shouldn't be, but doing it simply because he could and had nothing better to do.

"Leave the trays," Shin was saying from the kitchen. "I'll take care of them."

Hiroko continued to clean the table, brushing the crumbs of food onto an empty plate with a napkin. "Stop being so polite," she said. "It's the least I can do after all the help you've given me."

"You know," said Shin, reappearing and snatching the plate from her, "I'm starting to think you never needed all that help."

"Maybe you're right. And I'm starting to think someone has a little crush on me."

Touma almost laughed out loud, having just enough decency to close the door before they could hear him snickering. They were both about as subtle as wild animals in heat. What happened afterwards, Touma had no curiosity for. It wasn't his business anyway.

He climbed back into the bed and buried his face into the pillow, Shin's familiar salty-sweet scent filling his lungs, and thought of his father, his mother, his friends, Nasuti, Jun, the librarian, all those other people he didn't know the names of that made a difference in his life, until the pleasant lull of rain put him to sleep.

- - -

"Touma… Touma!"

Someone was shaking him gently, playfully. Touma opened one eye to find Shin hovering over him, dressed in pajamas. "Oh, it's you," he murmured, promptly rolled over and went back to sleep. Dim light from the bedside lamp filled the room. It must've been late.

He felt something warm press against him, cozy and delightful at first, which soon became angry and hostile. A hard thump woke up him before he realized he had made the sound when that something had shoved him off the bed and onto the floor. He stood, shivering, looking around. "Gee, what a great way to wake up."

"You deserved it," said the lump that was now under the covers. "Put on a jacket. Dinner's on the table. Heat it in the microwave. Don't be lazy."

"Lazy? Who's lazy?" Touma put on his best scowl, despite the fact that Shin couldn't see it. "What about you?"

Shin rolled over and blinked, as if blinking took more effort than shifting his weight. "I ate already. Thanks for asking."

"Don't flatter yourself. I meant—"

"I know." A knowing smile. Effortless.

Completely unsatisfied, Touma left the room. Ten-thirty. What kept Shin so busy for the past six hours that he forgot to pull a certain friend out of bed? Oh, right... Hiroko. Touma glanced at the dinner on the table and decided 'leftovers' was a better word. Not the he was complaining, because it smelled delicious. He grabbed a piece of teriyaki chicken with his fingers and dropped it in his mouth. Take _that_, Shin, my oh-so-loyal-and-compassionate friend. Who the hell needs a microwave?

"I'm watching you."

That voice was too close to be from the next room. Touma spun around and found Shin leaning against the doorframe. "You!" he said, pointing a sauce-covered finger at Shin. Then, he turned away, disinterested, and picked up another piece of chicken. "Oh, it's just you."

Shin looked around, confused. "Um… yeah?"

"Chicken Teriyaki Attack!"

Before Shin could figure out what was going on, the piece of chicken had landed squarely on his chest. Still a little stunned, he looked down and touched the sauce on his otherwise spotless pajamas. "Ew. That's disgusting. What did I do to deserve this?"

Touma shrugged.

"By the way," said Shin, as if to answer his own question, "your dad called earlier today, while you were sleeping. I was debating whether or not to tell you tonight. He says he's traveling up to Hokkaido for research-related reasons and just wanted to make sure you were okay. I asked if he wanted to talk to you, but he said—no, _insisted_—not to wake you up if you were sleeping."

Hearing no response from Touma, Shin continued.

"We ended up chatting for a little longer than an hour. Mostly about you, but about some other things too. We actually might have kept talking if he didn't have to leave to catch his flight. I guess the reason I didn't want to tell you today was because you rarely have the chance to speak to your dad. I feel kind of like I took something from you, and if I did, I'm really sorry."

Touma stared at his hands, then at the floor.

"The thing is, I had actually just come home from a walk, and your dad was just beginning to leave a message on the answering machine. I should have let him just leave the message, but I realized it was too late the moment I answered the phone. So I pressed 'record.' I recorded our entire conversation, Touma. I didn't think it would last that long, and I didn't think you wouldn't get the chance to talk to him. I left the tape next to the phone because I think you deserve to hear it. It's my fault."

Touma didn't look. He couldn't. He knew it wasn't such a big deal, that he could probably guess what they had said anyway, but his hands shook and he was crying. Shin gripped him by the shoulder and apologized again. Touma shook his head. I'm not angry, he wanted to say. I'm not angry. But why? Why does it feel like I am?

He couldn't understand what Shin was saying anymore, and he wasn't sure what he was yelling about either, but the last thing he heard before Shin left the room was, "Your father cares."

- - -

_November 25th, 1992 – 5:10 pm_

Hello? Is anyone home? Is this Shin's number? (pause) This is Touma's father. I'm guessing no one lives here anymore, but if you're still here, Touma, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be leaving in a few hours. I'm going to—

Otou-san? I'm so sorry, I just got home. I think Touma's sleeping right now. Let me go wake him up.

No! No, it's fine. I don't think you would be able to anyway. (laughter)

(silence)

So how have you been? Shin? This is Shin, right?

Yes, it is. I'm having a great time in college. Not much written work, really great professors, so many opportunities… Are you sure you don't want to speak to Touma? Maybe he can tell you what's going on in his life right now.

It's okay. Let him sleep. I'm sure he's tired. pause Can you talk right now? Are you busy?

Oh, no. Not at all. I have all the time in the world.

I was hoping _you_ could tell me what Touma's been up to these days. If you don't want to—

I don't understand. I'm sure Touma would gladly talk to you right now, even if he's asleep. But if you insist, I'll tell you what I know. I just think it's better if you talk directly to him.

(silence)

I'm so glad Touma has a mature friend like you. To be honest, I just received a letter from his school principal. A friendly letter. He _is _a high school friend, after all. Or just an old classmate, perhaps. Memories tend to deceive. It's just that… oh, never mind. Has Touma been acting different lately?

Different?

I don't even know. What's 'same' for him anyway?

Touma's always different. (laughter) It's something I admire about him. If he were acting the same, I'd be worried.

(silence)

You seem like a very nice boy, Shin. Can I tell you something? It's something about Touma. I mean, it's not a secret or anything, and it's not that I suspect you might be judgmental about it… I know it won't change anything if I told you—

I'm a little reluctant to hear it. There are some things Touma doesn't want me to know, which is why he doesn't tell me.

Please, you must understand that it's difficult for me to communicate with him, or anyone. But I hear your voice, and it reminds me of something I never had. Do you know what I mean? (pause) What am I saying… you're only a teenager. My son's age. A boy.

(silence)

I'm sorry, Otou-san. I'm—

No, don't be. It's my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned it.

—making things difficult for you. If there's something you feel you need to tell me, I'm listening. But I might not be very helpful.

Well, now that you offered, what I'm about to say seems minor. I don't know if Touma told you this, but he recently got into trouble at school for hitting another boy.

Oh, yes. He told me the sarcastic version. I'm guessing it was a bigger deal than what he made it to be?

I don't know. His principal briefly mentioned it in his long greeting letter. Mostly questions about my research, my career, my so-called success. I don't understand. It's like he glossed over the whole letter. _Is_ it a big deal? You can't trust people anymore. Everything is written in code nowadays. I can't tell if he's hinting at something, or if he's simply informing me, or if he's just trying to make conversation.

Touma had his reasons. I wouldn't worry too much about it. The principal probably misunderstood, or felt the need to exercise his authority in some way.

It's funny to think that you have more confidence in him than I do. You don't think he's violent? Maybe a little immature for his age? I'm only worried that this abnormal life is having some sort of adverse effect on him. I don't even know my own son anymore, but I try. I really do—

- - -

Bullshit. Touma ejected the tape and raised his arm to pitch it across the room, but dropped it back on the table instead. He'd listen to the rest later. He wasn't even frustrated anymore. Just defeated. Failure at life seemed to run in his blood. He crossed his legs on the couch and hugged himself tightly. Stupid heater hadn't quite been working properly, after he left those books there. His blanket was gone, and he didn't have the nerve to go back into Shin's room to ask for it. Everything was hopeless.

He thought of Shin and Hiroko, and for the first time, jealousy hit him. Not because they had each other, but simply because everything was so simple for them. He often wondered how Shin did it, how he had such a natural flair for conversation—whether it be expressing concern or hitting on hot girls. Hiroko had the same speaking talent, so talented in fact, that Touma could say her perfection made her less attractive. To him, at least.

Shin was a completely different matter. Touma was well aware that his friend was far from perfect. He could break Shin to pieces if he wanted to, knew exactly how each limb and organ would come apart, had almost seen it happen. It made him shiver with an odd delight, even though Shin could easily do the same to him. They were all capable of destroying each other out of admiration and longing. They knew too much about each other's flaws and strengths, kept their envies quiet, some more than others. But Touma was not heartless, contrary to popular belief. He smiled grimly, less weak, more confused, not feeling much better. Partly because a certain influential figure still lurked in the back of his mind.

He was the exact replica of his father. Obsessive, reckless, socially inept. His father was not unprone to emotions, love, all that crap—he just had no idea what to do with it. What was he thinking, marrying a woman nearly twenty years younger than himself? A teenager, his own student, for heaven's sake. A brilliant beautiful one, but a girl nonetheless. She must've fallen in love with his vulnerability and intellect, he with her youth and originality. And most of all, they were both in love with their love for each other. Touma was willing to bet that someone could write an entire novel about it. Scratch that. Someone already had.

So what if Shin asked him to sleep with him right now? Would he object?

Of course. Maybe. Touma rolled his eyes. Who was he kidding? He'd probably strip his clothes off and jump right into bed. But he didn't have to worry about that happening. All he had to do now was make sure he wouldn't get lucky like his father did. He'd have to be extra careful though. It might happen in twenty years, catch him unaware, knock him off his feet. Then he'll end up with a crazy kid just like himself.

He finally got up to make himself a hot cup of coffee. He wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway. Science project was due before the new year, and he had a little less than a month to finish. He turned on the stove to boil some water, standing near it to stay warm. Who was he doing the project for? Certainly not himself. It was to prove he could, to meet expectations, to give the sweet old librarian something she could be proud of. And maybe, just maybe, because Shin had brought it up in the first place.

Funny how all these thoughts connected so easily in his mind. There had been a point in his life when he believed they were separate, and were to be kept that way. It seemed almost ridiculous now.

As Touma sipped his scorching over-sweetened coffee and tried to think of his project, he found himself uncomfortably aroused. It must've been that shameless thought of Shin asking him to bed. Or it could just be that he was a pubescent teenager who didn't masturbate enough. He could vaguely recall Shuu telling them all five years ago, when the five of them had hardly known each other, that if a guy didn't masturbate enough, he could spontaneously combust. "It's happened before," Shuu had told him. "I've read it in the papers."

Ryo had laughed nervously, Seiji and Shin looked at each other and shrugged. "You're an idiot," Touma remembered saying. And now that same voice saying those same words echoed in his head, directed at himself, as his hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers.

He pictured Shin, naked, writhing beneath him, moaning in pleasure. He pretended Shin was a girl. He imagined Shin's warm mouth all over him. Nothing worked. Maybe I'm not in love with Shin after all, he thought. Almost laughing out loud. Continued to touch himself fruitlessly. He finally decided he was never going to come like this and fell back against the couch, motionless, aching, staring at the ceiling.

Except he saw Shin instead, felt their sweaty foreheads pressed together, strong hands gripping either side of his face, held even tighter by the familiar heated gaze, and bit back a cry as his orgasm took him by surprise. When he opened his eyes, the image was gone, and he was alone again. Alone and sticky. Great. At least he was warm.

He wondered why he didn't get an erection every time Shin look at him. Now he probably will.

Anyway, back to the science project.

- - -

I'm back after nearly two months, with a new style and a new attitude. I'm trying to make my writing bolder, faster, more effective. Tell me if it works for you! All other comments and feedback are appreciated too!


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